Switchbacks to Goat Lake

Michael and I ride from Boise through Prairie and across the mountains to Pine and Featherville before turning north to camp around a high mountain lake. We cover highway, gravel, dirt roads, ATV and singletrack, a real dual sport adventure.

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The seventh annual Abbott Brother ride¹ is to be hosted in my neck of the woods for the first time. As such, there are high expectations about the quality of sights and trails.

As I played with possible route loops, I noticed a good bit of highway could be avoided with a trail through the mountains between the South Fork of the Boise River headwaters and Alturas Lake. Only problem: I’d never ridden it. It could be awful.

So I asked my friend Michael if he’d be interested in scouting it with me. Of course he was. We’d talked a bit about that area when we were near Rocky Bar last fall.² Now it’s go-time.

We agreed to meet at my house Saturday morning in East Boise and head over the Oregon Trail behind Micron to Blacks Creek Road. We’ve had a few weeks of hot weather and it’s already warming up as we head out.

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Both the space and time of places impress me. As our modern suspension rapidly absorbs the ruts and rocks that represent the old immigrant trail, I think of wooden wagons lurching and jolting along this same path in a cloud of dust some 150 years ago — such different experiences.

Michael and I pause a moment at Bonneville Point to check straps and look back over Boise. The city is almost invisible under thick smoke drifting south from a Garden Valley forest fire.¹ We are eager to leave the hot, hazy air behind.

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Michael and I break at the cleverly named Y-Stop, traditional recreationist rendezvous, and sit a few minutes in the shade drinking diet sodas and playing fetch with the resident dog, vanilla-chocolate coat and bronze eyes, who seems pleased for the company.

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Harvesting of 40 million board feet of burned timber already has begun and will continue through the winter and into next summer near the town of Prairie … As much as 100 log trucks per day will be coming in and out of the mountains when harvesting is occurring.¹

I am surprised to see several occupied campsites along Fall Creek amidst thoroughly burned forest. It’s charred and dusty but I guess the creek is still nice.

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Emerging from our post-apocalyptic, twenty mile ride from Prairie through bleached earth and blackened trees to boaters and beach-goers in sparkling blue water at Anderson Ranch Reservoir makes me think of the legend of Emperor Nero, said to have sat fiddling, amusing himself, while the world (Rome) burned.

After topping off our tanks at the Nitz Pine Store, we head north to Featherville then east along the South Fork of the Boise River.

“That was farther than I was expecting,” I say to Michael when we reach the intersection to turn north up to South Fork headwaters. Those couple inches on the map were twenty-five miles of gravel road. But at least it’s put most of the smoke behind us.

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We leave the South Fork to follow Bear Creek into higher mountains. The creek crossing looks a little deep and rocky. With gear and gadgets that wouldn’t survive dunking, we take the cautious approach, willing to trade wet feet for dry luggage.

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We are on the pegs, leaning, twisting, modulating throttle to navigate slopes of “baby heads” — riders’ affectionate if gruesome name for loose rocks of that general size and shape — as soon as we leave Bear Creek. It feels a bit like exercise.

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We have only come about a mile-and-a-half up the mountain along Goat Creek, now in a ravine well below, when we see the narrow line of dirt receding into trees. There is about a mile of singletrack to complete the ride into Goat Lake.

Our thought in coming this way was to drop gear at the lake then descend and explore motorcycle trails in the surrounding mountains, reconnaissance for my brother ride, but already I’m not enthusiastic to repeat the day’s rocky climbs.

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There are tight switchbacks that take some maneuvering on our loaded bikes but nothing alarming. It’s a fun little track, I think. As we pause a moment after navigating one switchback, we hear yelling from above.

“It gets better up here!”

Accustomed to condemnation, if anything, from hikers it takes a moment to register. They’re encouraging us onward. A set of UTVs were parked back at the singletrack trailhead. This must be them.

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“I don’t think we’ll ride up here again,” one of the UTV hikers tells us when we’ve reached the lake. “The trail has gotten a lot worse.”

We chat with him and his wife several minutes. Michael gets out a map to ask about other trails we planned to ride today, Emma and maybe Willow Creek. They’re about like the singletrack we just rode, we conclude.

“I think that’s all I need to know,” I say. My brother Joel’s KLR loaded for five days wouldn’t be much fun on a trail like that — reconnoissance complete.

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We also talk a while with a group on horseback, a few adults and a few kids. They’re sitting in the shade at the lake’s edge.

“I tried to ride my motorcycle on some trails like this,” one of them says, “and turned around.” (I think it’s a CRF 230 or similar he says he has.) “Got stuck and almost couldn’t get out. Horses are a lot easier,” he concludes with a chuckle.

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Building on the nexus of his professional and recreational expertise, Michael has started designing and selling durable adventure bags and pouches (obradvgear.com/www.obradvgear). This headlight issue is good reason to switch to the sweet tool roll¹ I got from Michael this morning. It fits the KTM toolset perfectly.

I notice vertigo whenever I stand up. Michael has felt the same. We conclude the 8,810 feet of elevation is giving us a little altitude sickness. He decides he’ll jump in the lake to perk up while we’re waiting for the epoxy to dry.

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The variety of flowers around the lake are amazing. We also saw a vigorous little waterfall recommended by the horseback riders.

“I’ll have to come back at dusk for some long exposures,” I’d said to Michael when we saw it earlier.

Mosquitoes have come out at camp, annoying but bearable. But around the marshy area by the falls, they fly thick and voracious. I was reluctant to walk back this way but figured I would later regret it if I didn’t. So here I go. Shields up.

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Mosquitoes are biting my arms, legs, back, neck and temples as I level the tripod, set the aperture and frame the shots. I wish I’d brought clothes with sleeves and pant legs. These had better be worth it!

I sleep pretty well and wake to a beautiful morning. Michael was up earlier. He’s been on some walks. He’s probably glad to finally brew some coffee. We leisurely sip our hot drinks, hydrate some oatmeal and slowly pack up.

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Now that we know the way, and without meeting at intersections, we make good time back to Featherville then Pine, where we stop for lunch at the resort. We pass many others making the same mountain exodus, though I have to think we had the best campsite.

Add Goat Lake to one of the few lakes accessible by motorcycle but not automobile, sure to offer secluded camping following an entertaining ride. It’s an area asking for further exploration. Stay tuned.